


Circuit

by Mithen



Category: DCU - Comicverse
Genre: Multi, Smut, Soul Bond, Telepathy, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-25
Updated: 2012-02-13
Packaged: 2017-10-31 02:47:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/339027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mithen/pseuds/Mithen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A newly-arrived Kara enlightens both Bruce and Clark about some of the more subtle aspects of Kryptonian sexuality.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Perversions

Kara Zor-El laughed merrily, her mirth lifting her right off the floor of the Fortress of Solitude. "You mean to tell me," she said between giggles, "That Earthlings are all a bunch of _perverts_?"

Batman stood below her, his arms crossed. "I fail to understand your meaning, Kara." Superman was nearby, sitting on the base of the pedestal that held the statue of his parents. Batman had been lecturing the new Kryptonian arrival about Earth culture and mores when his disquisition had been interrupted by peals of laughter from the young woman.

"It's just...I mean..." She stifled another snicker with her hand. "You mean to tell me that most humans can only feel sexual attraction toward members of the opposite gender?"

Batman pursed his lips. "The statistics are unclear and difficult to tabulate, but most humans seem to end up with a marked preference for one or the other sex."

"Ooooh," said Kara. "That's _kinky._ "

Batman's jaw set stubbornly. "Human cultures have usually traditionally seen marriage and mating as linked primarily to procreation."

Kara wrinkled her nose. "Okay, now, that's just _obscene._ Gross. How could people limit love to merely procreation?"

Her teacher put his hands on his hips. "Well, how do they do it on Krypton?"

The Kryptonian girl floated to the ground. "Every adult can be attracted to any other adult, naturally. And at adulthood, Kryptonians join their Triad, the soul-bond between three adults that will last their lifetimes."

Batman gestured at the statue of Jor-El and Lara. "What about Kal's parents?" he said triumphantly.

Kara looked sad. "Hala Zur-kan, their Third, died in a flyer accident shortly after their marriage. It was so tragic. People were afraid they'd never recover, losing their Bonded so young. I went to the funeral." She looked at Kal. "You didn't know about Hala?"

Kal looked surprised. "I didn't know about any of this. Though," he added thoughtfully, "It would explain some of the cultural references I'd found obscure..."

Batman glared at Kal. "You didn't know Kryptonians are naturally bisexual? Or that they mate for life in trios?"

Kal glared. "The records I have aren't exactly forthcoming about sex."

"This is important stuff, Kal! This is your physiology we're talking about!"

Kara waved her hands between the two arguing men, her brow furrowed. "Wait a minute...wait a minute... _wait a minute!_ " They fell silent and she put her hand to her forehead. "You mean...no...I'm confused." She turned to Kal. "So it's just you and Lois? In a...Duality?" She said the word as others would say "into bestiality."

Kal nodded.

Kara's eyes darted to the black-clad figure with his arms crossed. "But I just assumed...from the way you two spoke and stood near each other and--and _looked at each other_ , for Rao's sake..." She stared at the two of them, bewildered. "You mean to tell me you're not...together? Kal's not bonded to you sexually?"

"He most certainly is not," Batman said indignantly. "Are you, Kal?" he said, looking to the Kryptonian for affirmation.

Kal was blushing.

"Well," muttered the Man of Steel, "This would actually explain quite a lot."

Kara bit her lip. "Should I...not have said anything?"

Batman stalked over to Superman and grabbed the front of his suit, bunching blue cloth in his hand. "Kara," he said tightly, "I think it's time for you to leave. Now."

Kara left. But she was smiling as she flew away from the Fortress.

She was just glad to know neither of her adopted fathers was a pervert.


	2. Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clark and Bruce process the realization that they're in a soul-bond with Lois.

As Kara flew away from the Fortress, Batman tightened his grip on the front of Superman's uniform.  Superman glared at him but didn't pull away.  "Were you ever going to _mention_ to me that I'm apparently in some soul-bonded threesome with you and Lois?"  Batman gritted.  
  
Superman threw his hands in the air.  "I didn't _know!_   I _swear_ , Bruce!  I thought I--I mean, I thought--well, never mind what I thought," he finished lamely.  
  
Batman bared his teeth and leaned in closer to Superman.  "Do you have any idea what _I've_ been thinking for the last few years?"  When Superman just blinked at him, he snarled, "Do you have _any idea_ how difficult it is to do the playboy routine when all I can think of every time I'm in bed with a woman is you and Lois?  How hard it is to please a woman when all that goes through my mind are images of you fucking her, and the only way I can come at all is to imagine myself there too?"  His hand tightened in the blue cloth.  "My work life has suffered because I keep making excuses to come down to Metropolis and torment myself by stopping by the Planet and seeing you two there together, and making polite small talk with you while all I can think about is throwing both of you into a closet and ripping your clothes off--" His voice caught like a sob, "--wanting to get down on my knees and suck you off while she pulls on my hair, wanting to fuck her while you watch, wanting to be inside her at the same time you are, I don't care how, and having to sip my fucking _coffee_ and talk about the news of the day?"  
  
Superman's voice was faint.  "I was thinking it too.  I was thinking it all the time too."  
  
"And now your alien cousin shows up and casually mentions that that's the way it _should_ be with you?  That you--you _did this to me_ without even realizing it?  That you--"  The anger dropped abruptly from his voice and left only a stunned surprise, "--That you want it too?  That it's..."  He groped for a word, "... _right?"_    
  
The simple syllable fell between them and echoed.  
  
"It's right," Superman repeated, and then again with more surety, lower and huskier, "It's right, Bruce."  
  
Batman stared at him.  "I want to kiss you."  Superman licked his lips and said nothing, didn't lean forward.  "If I kiss you, we're going to do it, have sex, fuck each other right here on the Fortress floor.  Which we probably shouldn't.  Even if it is...right.  So right."  He moved his mouth a little closer to the Kryptonian's, close enough that their breaths mingled.  "Tell me to stop it, Kal.  Tell me to go away."  
  
Superman drew in a breath.  "She said your name once.  While we were having sex."  His eyes were bright.  "I'd never come so hard in my life."  
  
And then Bruce's mouth was on his and he had the cowl off, clumsy with need, with desire so long deferred, his fated one under his hands, moaning with pleasure, feeling the connections finally clicking into place with a rush of perfect ecstasy.   
  
Kryptonian Triads are permanent and unbreakable because soul-bonded sex, with its element of empathic pleasure, is infinitely better than anything else.  
  
Somewhere in Metropolis, Lois Lane felt arousal and lust wash through her body like a torrent, inexplicable and undeniable.  She struggled to get through the meeting she was in, then locked herself in the bathroom and luxuriated in the erotic images pouring through her, black leather on blue spandex, scarred skin against shining flesh...she didn't know why the old fantasy had resurfaced so suddenly, but it felt so good, so right...  
  
Her release was sharp, intense, rattlingly good, and yet somehow unsatisfying.  The work day was over and Lois hurried home, she felt so anxious to get home, she wanted to see her husband again so badly...  
  
Back at the Fortress, Bruce and Clark were lying on the floor, since they hadn't even been able to make it to a bed.  Bruce was shivering--not with cold.  "Is it always like-- _that_ \--with Lois?"  His voice sounded dreamy and faraway.  
  
Clark nuzzled his hairline, his eyes still foggy.  "Not quite like that, no.  I think finding the last member cements the bonds into place and releases the...the sharing more."  
  
Bruce made an inarticulate sound and his hands twitched.  "It's going to be even stronger when it's all three of us together, isn't it."  
  
Clark's breath hitched.  "I think so."  He felt the images he had struggled against for so long flood his mind again-- _Bruce's hands on his ass as he entered her, Lois's mouth around his cock as he kissed Bruce--_ and felt Bruce tense beside him, knew that he was sharing the arousal, the need.  The images shifted, Bruce embellishing them, adding sounds-- _Lois calling their names together, Clark's gasp of rapture as he passed the point of no return_ \--and he knew they both could feel, far-off and faint, Lois's desperate craving, stoked almost past bearing by the mental link.  "She's waiting for us," Clark muttered, the mutter turning into a moan as Lois shifted the fantasy into her watching Bruce fucking him, watching the look on his face...  
  
Bruce caught his breath.  "We can go there now.  Make it final, finish the link."  
  
Clark shook his head as if that would help clear it and looked at Bruce.  "Are you sure?"  
  
Bruce smiled lazily.  "Clark.  It's _right."_  
  
And it was.


	3. Private Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois is having a very difficult time keeping her fantasy life under control.

Lois Lane shifted restlessly on the couch.  Sitting around the apartment was _not_ helping.  She had no idea why her old obsession with the idea of Clark and Bruce together had suddenly resurfaced, but it had this afternoon, and with a vengeance.  She had left work to go home early, hoping that getting home, being surrounded with the familiar domestic setting she shared with Clark, would take her mind off the images crowding her head.  She had crawled into a set of Clark's cozy flannel pajamas, counting on their comforting embrace and faint familiar scent to take her mind off it.  Instead she had ended up imagining Bruce fucking her while she was wearing Clark's pajamas.

No, that hadn't helped at all.

Lois threw on some clothes.  She was heading back to work.

  
: : :   


_Recent developments have made it imperative that the situation be considered for what it is, in re: political and economic developments..._   Lois realized she had simply been re-reading the same line over and over, the black ink on white paper meaningless in front of her eyes.  She growled to herself and pulled out some paperwork for accounting.  The office was quiet but far from empty with the night shift still collecting stories.  Lois tried to look busy, her mind wandering despite her best efforts.

"Hi Lois!"  Clark's genial voice jolted her out of her reverie.  Her husband sat down in one of the chairs in front of her desk, holding two cups of coffee in his hand.

"Hey Smallville," Lois said cheerfully.  "Thanks for bringing me coffee!  I sure could use it..."

"Oh," said Clark, "I'm sorry, the coffee's for Bruce."  The playboy billionaire settled languidly into a chair facing Clark, wafting the coffee out of his hand and waving a vague hello to Lois.  "Would you like some of mine?"

"Never mind," muttered Lois, trying to calm down her heart rate.  Of all the damn times for Bruce Wayne to show up!  He'd gotten in the habit of dropping by the Planet maybe once a month, appearing at their offices and just hanging out and drinking coffee.  He and Clark would make small talk about world events, although usually the conversation would be filled with references to their caped alter-egos that Lois just had to let skate by, not knowing the context. 

And while they made cool conversation, Lois would be stuck behind her desk trying not to think about what the sight of that insufferable Bruce Wayne did to her.  What the sight of her husband and Bruce sitting next to each other did to her.

She took a deep, steadying breath, focusing on her paperwork and letting the two men continue their chatter.  She hated the way Bruce's visits rattled her, hated that she couldn't seem to focus on anything but his hands, on the fact that sometimes he sat just a whisper too close to Clark...that should make her jealous, it should make her _jealous_ , and yet whenever he left Lois would spend the next few days wishing he had sat even closer.  Imagining how surprised and sweet Clark would look if he sat close enough to brush against her husband's thigh... _how Clark's long eyelashes would sweep downwards in confusion behind the thick glasses as Bruce leaned in just a little too close...he would glance at her nervously, waiting for her to protest, shock widening his innocent blue eyes further at what they could see in hers.  She'd smile lazily as the hand on Clark's knee slid up, far past the point of any appropriateness, and Clark bit his lip..._

Damnit, she was doing it again.  They weren't even anywhere near each other, they were just chatting casually, Bruce wasn't putting any moves on Clark at all, he wasn't behaving inappropriately at all.

God, Lois wished he would.  She felt a sudden, crazy urge to go over to the chair Bruce was draped across and straddle him, pulling those long, narrow hands to her breasts...she lowered her eyes to her paperwork, focusing furiously on it, on the paperwork, not on _Bruce's mouth on her neck, his hardening erection under her hips, and Clark's warm chuckle behind them, pleased and proprietary...Clark's hands were on her waist, pushing her shirt up, unfastening her bra so Bruce could slide his hands under her shirt and caress her nipples..._

Lois shook her head.  The two men in front of her continued chatting and sipping their coffee, oblivious.  Bruce was wearing a leather duster with a ridiculously expensive-looking cashmere scarf.  Lois was working, she was working, she was not imagining _Bruce trying her wrists to the bedposts with that foppish scarf while Clark secured her ankles with his garish ties, stretching her out beneath their hands..._

Bruce made a small choking sound.  "That's not mine, Clark, I swear," he said hastily, Lois couldn't tell about what.  Probably referencing another spy satellite or something.  In her mind, their four hands were stroking down her bound body, making her writhe unbearably.  The real men's voices seemed very far away.

"God," said Clark faintly.  "Um, me neither.  Wow."

The fantasy shifted somewhat and Lois found herself imagining _Bruce naked on top of her, entering her, thrusting into her, a satisfied smirk on his face, arrogant, God, what a bastard, it shouldn't feel this good...but it did.  Oh, it did._

"Greedy," said Clark, a laugh threading through his voice.

Bruce took a sip of his coffee.  "Give me a break, Clark, I've been waiting a long time."

Lois tried to catch her breath, her heart racing out of control.  She couldn't even gather her thoughts enough to excuse herself, and really, she didn't want to leave the presence of the two men anyway.  The images of Bruce fucking her were so intense, so overwhelming...but missing something...

Lois shifted in her chair and with an effort of will added what was missing.  In her mind's eye, _Clark leaned in to bite Bruce gently on the shoulder.  Then, as Lois watched raptly, he slid against and into Bruce._

  
_All of Bruce's smug arrogance crumbled against the sensation;  his face dissolved into naked astonishment and then into hungry abandon as he was penetrated, opened wide and fucked by Clark.  He bit his lip and made a desperate mewling sound, and Lois could feel his erection stiffen further inside her._   


In the office, the real Bruce inhaled sharply and moaned.  "Hot," he mumbled.  "The, um...the coffee, it's hot.  Damn.  So hot."  He seemed disoriented by something.  "I'm...I'm not sure that's technically feasible," he said weakly to Clark.

Clark had a wicked smile on his face.  "I intend to find out."

Lois couldn't concentrate on the two at all, she was so enthralled with the image of the two of them in her fantasy.  She rocked back slightly in her seat, then forward again, even those minuscule movements stimulating her almost unbearably.  Oh, God, it was so much worse than usual, so much stronger, she couldn't possibly stop thinking about it.  She tried to wrench her mind away but instead found herself focusing even more intently.  _Bruce's cold blue eyes were burning now, all pretense of detachment gone, his mouth an O of ecstasy as Lois ran her hands across that beautiful chest, as Clark's hands tightened on his shoulders, tangled in his hair, pulled his head back into an arc of passion.  "Yes, yes," he said hoarsely, and Lois could feel--_

Lois exhaled and realized she had been holding her breath, realized suddenly that unlike the other times she had fantasized about this situation, she was imagining how both Bruce and Clark were feeling at this moment in her fantasy, imagining it so clearly it was like she was in their minds.  _Lois felt her tension growing, a sweet anticipation building all through her with every thrust, with every panting noise Bruce made.  She also felt Bruce's pleasure at penetrating and being penetrated, felt his desperate passion and--joy?--wild and unleashed at last, at last, at last...and she felt Clark's bewildered satisfaction, felt the hot tightness he was pushing into, the bewilderment slowly, slowly giving way to an almost smug certainty.  They were his, they were both his, how foolish he had been to let silly human conventions keep him from this, keep them apart.  His heart sang in victory: mine, oh mine, and that thrill of triumph rang through all three of them like nested bells, goodness beyond any possible denial.  Bruce cried something inarticulate and Lois felt all three of them--_

Her hands scrabbled briefly on the desk in front of her and it was not possible that she could climax without even touching herself, not possible that her imagination and the mere friction of her thighs could drive her over, drive her over here in the middle of a crowded office, surrounded by people, with both of them _looking at her,_ not possible--

Except apparently it was.  She tried to look like she was still concentrating on the paperwork, but her eyes closed and she bent forward over the desk, devoured by pleasure, consumed by ecstasy, tearing through her body uncontrollably like joyous wildfire, like nothing she had ever felt before.  She kept her eyes shut, still bowed over her paperwork, hoping she would look like she had just had a dizzy spell, waiting to feel normal again. 

She wasn't sure she ever would.

Dimly, from somewhere far away, she heard Bruce's voice addressing Clark.  "That was..." he said.  He was panting.  "How did you manage not to..."

"Ngh," Clark said.  "Iron will?  I'm not surprised you didn't..."  He sounded breathless too.  And smug.  The smugness, in fact, sounded distinctly familiar.

Bruce chuckled.  "I'm surprised too, frankly.  It was a near thing."

Lois pried her eyes open and looked at their flushed faces, the laughter sparking their eyes.  "Bastards," she muttered, and then louder, "You goddamn sons of bitches!"  Her chair crashed into the desk behind her as she stood up.

"Lois, no, it's not--" Clark began, but she was throwing on her coat. 

"Fucking around in my head, very funny," she snarled and whirled for the door, ignoring Bruce's stifled snicker behind her, Clark's plaintive voice.

She made her way to the elevator on legs still shaking uncontrollably and sank against the wall as the door closed.  She wasn't sure what had been going on there, but she wasn't going to sit there and let them laugh at her.  She was going home.  Damnit, she was going home and they both could go to hell.

Except that they wouldn't go to hell, of course.  They'd go to her apartment too.  Because neither of them had climaxed, and they were still...  She could feel both of them like banked fires in the back of her mind.  Their desire for her, for each other, cascaded through her body again like twinned torrents, drowning her anger in lust.  She shook her head fiercely.  She should go somewhere else, then.  Leave town, go to her parents, go visit Lana, anything but go home.  Home to where they'd be waiting for her, waiting to finally, to _finally..._

She was furious at them both.  Manipulative, smug, impossible _men._

She found herself in front of her apartment.  They'd be in there by now, waiting for her to open the door.  To come in to them.  To open.  To be opened.  She felt their desire and hers tugging, pulling. 

She left the elevator (when had she entered it?) and stood in front of the apartment door.  She was going to walk away.  Walk away and let them suffer without her.  And they would suffer, she could tell, a pair alone without their Third, incomplete, always broken, always yearning (like she and Clark had been without Bruce, her mind whispered), not together and perfect and beautiful, filled with life and passion...

Her hand on the doorknob.  Turning it.

The door opened and she went in.


	4. The Circuit Closes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois confronts Bruce and Clark about their new soul-link, with the inevitable outcome. 

"You're saying _what?"_ Lois Lane heard her voice spiral up into anger and tried to tamp it back down.  Bruce Wayne was leaning against their television cabinet, his handsome features half smirking and half something Lois couldn't place.  Across the room, Clark Kent was sitting on their sofa, eyes wary.  Lois was facing down Bruce like an angry cat, feeling impotent fury taut and tense in her body. 

"I'm saying that apparently our cherished Kryptonian--" Bruce's sea-dark eyes flicked toward the sofa and Lois felt her breath catch at the adjective, half-joking, all serious, "--has, wisely or not, created a soul-bond between the three of us."

"I didn't mean to," Clark said like a chastised child.

Fury running through her.  Fury and not lust.  She _hated_ Bruce Wayne, the manipulative bastard, and damned if she was going to share Clark with him.  "So what the hell do we do now?  How do we break it?"

Bruce looked at her.  His eyes ran down her frame, almost insultingly intimate.  "We don't do anything.  At least, not anything to break it.  It's probably not possible."  He met her eyes levelly, all trace of the playboy obliterated.  "And I don't want to.  I want this.  I want _you."_ The pronoun was clearly both singular and plural, and Lois felt her pulse hammer harder.  She fought an urge to cross the room and try and slap the arrogant bastard.  It would be useless to even try, and once he blocked her blow, once he touched her...Lois put her hands behind her back and felt her fingernails digging into her wrist.

Bruce was continuing as if he had no idea how much Lois was struggling, as if this was a _sane conversation_.  "You and I are going to complete the triangle."

"Complete..." Lois could feel Clark's eyes on her, bright and clear. 

Bruce took one step toward her.  His eyes glinted.  "Clark's fucked both of us."  Clark made a small sound at the language, half-protest, half-yearning.  "Now it's our turn."

"You think you're going to just walk into our apartment and announce that you're going to...to fuck me right in front of my husband."  She shouldn't have used that verb.  She wanted to say it again, to watch the answering fire spark in his eyes, to hear Clark's breath hitch.

"That's a good summary," said Bruce dryly.  Another step closer to her.  She held her ground.  She wasn't going to fall back from him.

"Why's it got to be you fucking me?" she challenged, "I could fuck you." 

The light in his eyes was terrifying.  "Do you and Mr. Moderate have a strap-on readily available?" he asked.  Another step.  He was almost close enough to touch her now.  Clark was still just watching. 

She dropped her eyes, cursing herself for letting him psych her out.  "No," she said grudgingly.

A very low chuckle.  "Well, I'll just have to buy us one, then.  For later."

She looked up to stare at him and he reached out and brushed a finger across the side of her face for a fraction of an instant.

The circuit snapped closed and she felt energy, desire, lust burn through her body, multiplied threefold.  She heard herself moan something and then she was up against him, fierce and hungry, the mental ecstasy more overpowering than the physical.  God, how she had needed this, how she had wanted this...

They managed to stagger to the sofa, buttons flying as Lois ripped at Bruce's shirt, cursing when they didn't give immediately.  They collapsed onto the sofa and across Clark's lap, Lois ending up with her shoulders across her husband's legs, staring up into his wide turquoise eyes as Bruce pulled her shirt up, unfastened her bra with the ease of long practice, and bent his dark head to her breasts.  "Clark," she moaned as she felt the tongue and the teeth closing on her nipple, felt a brief worry that she had said the wrong name, realized it didn't matter, they were all together now and there were no wrong names, none at all.

Clark's eyes were heavy with lust, not entirely human at all.  He reached out and put one hand on the back of Bruce's head, caressing the dark hair, staring down at Lois.  In her mind, Lois could feel his pleasure, his sense of rightness.  It was alien, more alien than she had ever imagined, but intoxicatingly so--heady, rich, ecstatic.  Beautiful.  His thoughts stroked across their human minds like trailing flame, filled with certainty.  He had both of them now.  He was going to make them _both happy._   So happy.  He could make them feel _this_ \--pleasure abruptly spiked through Lois, impossibly intense, and she cried out in perfect unison with Bruce.  The presence in her mind sparkled with delight, with a questioning tone:  was that good?

"Yes...." Lois heard her voice twined with Bruce's, aching.  She felt a sudden thought cross her mind, that she wished her husband would hold her down, pin her wrists above her head so she couldn't move, couldn't do anything but be right here, right in this moment. 

Even as she thought it, a warm hand circled her wrists together, pulled her arms up and held her to the sofa. 

Clark had never done that to her, Clark would never _dare_ without knowing she wanted to, and she had never said it, never, never...she pulled wildly on the impossibly strong hands, her body bucking, but her shattered pleasure echoed through the link, undeniable, and Kal didn't let go. 

Lois went limp and closed her eyes, dizzy at the triple sensations running through her:  Kal's possessive delight, Bruce's desperate need, her own shocked pleasure.  She felt Bruce pulling her slacks down, heard him fumbling with his own belt buckle and wrestling with some cellophane, then cursing slightly when he dropped it.  "Relax, Bruce," her husband said, laughing slightly.

"Relax, the man says relax," Bruce growled.  Sounds of a small package being opened.  Bruce's ragged breathing. 

"Let me help you with that," said Kal softly, reaching out with the hand that wasn't still holding down Lois.  Bruce tensed and Lois could feel, surreally sharp, the sensation of Kal's hand stroking down an organ she didn't have, so that's what it felt like __, _ah_...she twisted and brought her hips up against Bruce as hard as she could manage, desperate to make contact with the erection she could _feel_ hot under Kal's hand, hot in Bruce's mind.

Bruce laughed, low and husky.  "Oh, Lois," he said, "Aren't we lucky he likes his lovers impossibly demanding and unpleasant?"

She opened her eyes to glare at him, but when she met his azure gaze she found nothing there but affection and ironic self-awareness, and she found herself grinning in return, the circuit closing in another way.  "Just get around to fucking me, loverboy," she said as haughtily as possible while pinned to her husband's lap.  "Or are you planning on chickening out?" 

The mental link shaded and slanted her words into what she really meant, and she felt both warmth and panic at realizing she could never get away with bravado or bluffing with them, never again.  __

 

_Don't leave.  Please._

Bruce's mouth was wry and his eyes were gentle.  "The goddamn Batman never 'chickens out'."  

_I'll never leave either of you._   


And then they were joined, physically and mentally, Kal's mind stoking the fires in both of them, their pleasure compounding, multiplying, spiraling, there was no end to it, no end, only a pause, a moment of savage ecstasy in which Kal groaned sharply, their names tangled in his mouth.  Still held tightly against his lap, Lois felt the muscles of his thighs tense, felt him buck against her, and heard his groan echoed by Bruce and her own voice as they all tumbled over together into bliss.

A long pause in which their breaths resounded hoarsely, perfectly in synch.  Lois lifted her head and found her wrists free;  Clark's head was lolling back on the couch, Bruce's nestled between her breasts.  Clark had his arms stretched out along the back of the sofa.  She rubbed at her wrists--although, of course, they didn't hurt\--and stretched her arms luxuriously.

Bruce muttered something inarticulate and nuzzled up against her at the movement;  Clark swept an arm down and curled it around both of them.  "I 'spose we ought to get to the bed if we're going to get some sleep," Clark mumbled, making a vague motion as if to rise.

Lois smiled lazily, savoring the weight of one lover on her, the support of the other beneath her.  "Who said anything about sleep?" she said smugly.

Bruce made a blurry sound and raised his head to look at her.  "Lois, women may be multi-orgasmic, but Clark and I are not.  And I say we're done for the night."

"Oh?"  Lois said softly, and _reached out_ along the link, stroking and caressing.   Clark and Bruce both made startled noises which trailed off into moans at the end.  She rubbed her shoulders against Clark's sudden erection and heard him gasp, turned the sound into a pulse of lust that left all three of them aroused afresh, unsatisfied, _wanting_.

Lois smiled at Bruce.  "And _I_ say we're not."


	5. A Cage to Keep Passion In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lois likes to watch...for as long as she can stand it.

"What am I thinking of?" said Bruce abruptly.

Lois and Clark looked at each other, confused.  "I don't get anything," said Clark.  "Lois?"

"Nothing."

Bruce looked relieved.  "I was thinking of dinner last night.  Alfred's tomato soup."

Lois stood up from Clark's lap and pulled her shirt down, brushing at her hair.  "Bruce, is there some reason for the random non-sequitur?"

Bruce rolled over onto his back, pulled his pants up, and dropped his head onto Clark's lap, looking up at them both.  Clark had no dressing to do as he was still fully-clothed;  he absently started to run a hand through Bruce's disheveled hair, and Bruce smiled at the casual touch, continuing.  "The link only seems to transmit sexual thoughts and...sex-related emotions."  His face was a little pink, perhaps remembering that he had transmitted a fair number of distinctly un-Batman-like emotions in the last half-hour or so.  He waved a hand lazily in the air.  "Not that I don't adore and cherish and love you both to itty-bitty bits--" the blush deepened somewhat as the link echoed the basic truthfulness of the dismissive words, "--but I don't really want you overhearing my cunning plans for taking down Maroni next week."

"All right," said Lois cheerfully, "What am _I_ thinking of?"  She cocked her head to the side.

Clark frowned.  You're thinking of--oh!"  He broke off and looked highly flustered.  "Um, you're thinking that--ahh."  A throaty moan.  "Lois, let me finish the sentence, will you?"

Bruce reached up from his position on Clark's lap and undid the top button of Clark's shirt.  "We're thinking you're still wearing _way_ too many clothes."

  
: : :   


Bruce had brought lubricant.  Of course he had.  He applied it to himself with firm strokes, and both Lois and Clark twitched in response.  He grinned lazily, lingering, making them both feel what he was doing to himself.

"Bastard," gasped Lois admiringly from her chair across the room.  "Just you wait until I have the opportunity to do that while you two are playing your silly boy's games fighting crime."

Next to him on the couch Clark made an uncomfortable whining noise, but Bruce's smile just widened.  "Who says I wouldn't enjoy the combination?"

"You're sick," Lois said, trying not to laugh.

Bruce's eyes slitted against the trebled feedback he was getting.  "Abuse me all you like, Lois, as long as I get to fuck your husband."

Clark took a shaky breath.  "I've never done this before," he said, and they could feel his discomfort, nervousness, and tentative desire.

"You'll like it," breathed Bruce.  "I promise.  Couldn't you feel how good it was when you did it to _me_ back in the Fortress?"  He leaned back and smiled at Clark's slight moan, and Lois felt a clamor of confused desire start in her at the sight of Bruce Wayne, his bare body pale against the brown tweed of their sofa.  "Come here."

Rather slowly, Clark stood up and slipped his underwear off, moving to sit awkwardly in Bruce's lap.  Bruce's voice emerged from behind the broad chest.  "That's right.  Relax.  I promise I'm not going to do anything too suddenly, Clark."

"You're not going to--"  Clark broke off and blushed.

"Not yet.  I can wait."  _For a little while,_ echoed clearly along the link, the thought heavily tinged with burgeoning lust.

"I'm too heavy," Clark muttered, shifting his position slightly and causing a flurry of arousal from the man beneath him.

Bruce leaned sideways to glare at him.  "You are not too heavy, you dork.  You're levitating.  You have total control over how this goes."

Lois swallowed hard at the sight of Clark and Bruce's bare limbs tangled together, Bruce's strong hands reaching around to caress her husband's chest, then slide lower.  "Oh.  Oh, God," said Clark as Bruce's hands stroked and caressed.  _"Rao."_ His head fell back slightly and his hands clenched against the brown fabric as he bit his lip.  Lois heard herself take a harsh, deep breath, and Clark's brilliant eyes opened to meet hers.  He smiled almost sheepishly, but she could feel his thoughts shifting, the alien overtones to them strengthening slightly.  "Lois," he whispered, "Come here.  Let us touch you."

Lois took another deep breath.  "Not yet," she said softly, struggling to keep her seat against the siren-call of his lust.  "Want to watch you," she managed. 

She wasn't at all sure she could resist if he insisted, but he didn't press the point, just let the invitation hang in the air between them as he shifted against Bruce slightly.  "When...?" he whispered, uncertainty starting to be swamped by longing.

Bruce's hands disappeared back behind Clark's broad body.  "Let's start slowly.  Just with...this."  Lois felt echoes of silky heat on her fingers, felt the pressure Clark experienced;  her husband winced slightly, although they all could tell the sensation wasn't painful.  "Clark," Bruce whispered hoarsely, and Lois could feel his amazement and staggered lust.  He shifted his hand slightly, coaxingly, and--

Lois jolted forward in her seat, Clark gouged a chunk out of the sofa arm, and even Bruce made a startled noise.  "Fuck," Lois announced, "Why the hell don't women get one of _those_?"

She heard Bruce's slightly shaky laughter.  Clark was still breathing heavily, his expression turned inward, almost dreamy.  "Can you...do that again, Bruce?" he asked.  The shadows of warmth on Lois's hand shifted again and Clark and Lois both moaned together as pleasure tangled in Clark's body, in all their minds.  "More," Clark said thickly, his thoughts scattered and refracted like a prism of lust.  "Oh, yes," he groaned as Bruce obliged.  "That's good."  Arousal showed in gusts of pleasure across his face, showed in the growing tension of his body.

Silver light in Lois's mind, shot through with emotions like brilliant colors.  Clark didn't say anything, but they could feel his readiness glowing like a beacon.  Bruce moved gently, repositioning Clark, and Lois bit down hard on her lower lip at the dual pleasure, penetrated/penetrating, at the gathering passion coiling through the room.  Clark made a small noise and moved, sending another jab of electric pleasure through all three of them.  He moved again.  "Want," he said as if it were a full sentence.  "Need."  As if he didn't need to say anything more.

Lois could feel the tenor of her husband's thoughts altering with each movement, the shy warmth deepening to something richer, stranger.  Bruce's strong hands were reaching around again to stroke Clark, and she couldn't possibly keep her seat anymore.  She rose and crossed the room to sink down on her knees in front of them, put her lips to her husband's erection, to lap and suck and--

Kal made a sound that not only wasn't human, it wasn't remotely _Terran_ , and every bit of glass in the apartment shivered.  Lois felt her hands on Kal's hips, perfect skin under her fingers, perfect skin on her tongue, softer and silkier than human. 

Bruce's hands closed over hers and their fingers twined together tightly, so tightly, like a cage to keep passion in. 

Kal tasted like amber, like myrrh, gold and silver light in her mind, warm and rapturous, beyond words.  He made that sound again and Lois shivered like glass, felt an answering tremor in Bruce's hands, her mind full of both of them, their pleasure slanting through her like sunlight, hot and undeniable.  She shuddered, desperate for release, feeling Bruce's arousal hovering so close to the point of no return, heat all around him, light all through her, Kal's delight braiding them together.

This time it was Bruce's climax that triggered theirs;  through the white-hot intensity of three different orgasms Lois swallowed mouthfuls of light and lost herself in twined pleasure.  Darkness and brightness in her mind like light through leaves, dappled and shifting.

For just a moment, all three of them rested in each other and knew peace.

Some time later, Lois raised her head from Clark's chest to see Bruce at the door.  "You can stay," she said sleepily, reaching out along the link to caress gently.

Bruce looked grim.  "Crime never sleeps in Gotham, Lois.  I can't afford to waste my time in meaningless pleasure when my stern and lonely duty calls.  I can't be coming down to Metropolis every other day to shag you both senseless, you know."  Lois smiled.  The words were meaningless, superficial;  under them was the tenderness, the affection, and a gleam of humor.  An image flickered into Lois's mind:  her bare body lapped in black and red silks.  Beneath her, her husband stirred in his sleep and made a happy sound.

Bruce smiled slightly.  "I'll see you both in my dreams," he said softly, and was gone.

Warmth touched the link between them, an azure glint like Bruce's eyes.  _Never truly gone, never again._  


__

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Trymmetry](https://archiveofourown.org/works/822487) by [glymr](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glymr/pseuds/glymr)




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